


not as a friend but as an obstacle

by racheldawnamber



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 22:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11023113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheldawnamber/pseuds/racheldawnamber
Summary: Hella trusts her impulses. Hadrian weathers and tempers them, as best he can.





	not as a friend but as an obstacle

The snow crunched beneath their boots as Hella and Hadrian circled, swords drawn and ready.

Hella made the first move, which he expected. Steel rang out as she swept aside the end of his blade with her own and engaged, breaking the circle they'd tread in the snow to charge in toward him. He stepped back to keep distance, and used the momentum of her blow to spin fully around, culminating in a powerful swing. She skidded to a halt and jumped back as soon as she saw the blade approaching, ceding the ground she'd gained.

Of course, that didn't discourage her for more than a moment. She lunged right back at him, just aside of his blade so he wouldn't have room for another swing. She raised her sword, two-handed, and put all her weight into a downward slash.

In the last moment, Hadrian raised his own sword overhead to protect himself, one hand on the hilt and the other braced against the flat of the blade. The impact was jarring; the swords both sang out in the awful resonance of stricken steel, and he felt like his arms had been liquefied.

It left him stunned for a moment, but it did not stun Hella. In a single motion, she circled around behind him and placed a kick to the back of his leg that dropped him to a knee. He flung his hands out to catch himself, pinning his sword uselessly beneath them against the ground. Behind him, Hella flipped her longsword around in her hands to face the blade downward, and she pressed the tip of the blade to his back, just between his shoulderblades.

For a long moment, nothing happened, the moment frozen in tableau. Hella's expression was stony, her strong features locked into the passionless visage of a warrior; Hadrian also looked sober, but less composed, nostrils flared and chest heaving to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him when he fell.

Then a grin split Hella's face, and she spoke, her breath a cloud in the frosty air.

"Best two out of three?"

She lifted the sword from his back, lowering it and extending her off hand to him. He took it, letting her help as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah, just- give me a second," he said, still somewhat winded, and leaned down to gingerly rub the back of his knee. "You know we're going to be walking all day, right?"

Apology tinged Hella's triumphant expression. "Sorry, that was a little overboard." Then she added, teasing, "If you need, I can carry you."

"You're lucky I don't take you up on that." He stood back up straight and rolled his shoulders, stretching and commenting, "At least I know you're not holding back."

"Not a chance," she assured him. "This is the best way to spar, anyways. It keeps you on your toes, if anything goes." She bent to pick up his sword from where he'd left it in the snow and held it out to him. "Hurry up and let's get moving before we freeze to death."

He took the sword, replying, "I don't think we will."

"Hadrian, I could pour out a cup of water and it would freeze before it hit the ground," she said, exaggerating as she complained and taking up her fighting stance.

He took up his own across from her. "Maybe," he replied, "but I think I've just gotten warmed up."

Neither could keep a completely straight face as Hadrian charged forward and steel met steel.

 

A few yards away, Adaire was seated neatly and sipping slowly at a cup of tea. It was starting to get cold- she'd been nursing it for a while now- and if she didn't finish it soon she'd pour it out and 'borrow' a bit more from Hella. But for now, it was still palatable, so she sat and drank and watched Hella and Hadrian spar.

She was not startled when Throndir approached; even the Ranger's quiet footsteps did not escape her. She'd heard the sound of his boots and Kodiak's paws as snow crunched beneath them, and she'd heard him exchange a few words with Alyosha as he returned from his morning scouting venture.

"Find anything?" she asked him once he was a couple of feet away. She knew the answer- she'd heard him say it to Alyosha- but she didn't want to draw attention to her casual eavesdropping.

"No, it's all clear. The whole area's pretty barren- usually you'd at least see some deer around, but we just saw a few rabbits." He sat beside her, a few feet away, and Kodiak settled between them with a low _wuff_. "Isn't Hella going to be angry at you?" he asked, noticing Adaire's drink.

"She won't," she replied confidently. She took a sip before adding, "You probably shouldn't try it, though."

"I wasn't planning to," he assured her before he turned his attention to Hella and Hadrian skirmishing in the snow. "They're really going at it, huh?"

"Yep." She took another sip.

"Why don't you watch from camp? It's cold over here."

"I'm surprised you can tell," she commented, glancing over to Throndir. Even if he weren't born and raised in the coldest part of Hieron- at least, what had _been_ the coldest part of Hieron- he was thoroughly bundled in coats and furs.

"We're ten yards from the fire, it doesn't take a genius. Are you avoiding Alyosha?" As he said the Exarch's name, he turned around to glance back at him. He was sitting beside the campfire, and when he noticed Throndir turning around, they both waved in mutual acknowledgement. Adaire wanted to cringe.

But he was right, and she admitted it freely; her feelings on the church were no secret. "He's annoying," she shrugged. "Like a less useful version of Hadrian. And I don't feel like being proselytized to first thing in the morning, anyways."

"He hasn't tried to preach to me," Throndir commented. "It seems like he mostly keeps it between him and Hadrian."

"Probably because he assumes you're spoken for. I don't know much about snow elves, but you guys have a religion, right?"

Throndir shrugged. "I mean, yeah, but I don't think he'd know that."

"Okay, well, then he doesn't because you're older than him and it would be weird." She shrugged.

"That's fair. What about Hella, then?"

He was already joking- anyone who'd so much as spoken to Hella could provide a laundry list of reasons why that was laughable- but Adaire looked up at Throndir and raised an eyebrow with such palpable skepticism that neither could keep a straight face, laughing together for a moment.

"Speaking of," Throndir said, turning back to the sparring match once they had collected themselves, "who's winning?"

"Hella usually wins by about three to two. Hadrian's technique is better, but she doesn't fight fair." There was a hint of pride to her observation.

"You must be paying attention."

"If you find anything more entertaining out here than watching a couple of buff people swordfight, you let me know," Adaire told him.

Throndir laughed again and agreed, shifting to make himself more comfortable while spectating; "I can't argue with that."

 

It was their fifth bout when Hadrian started noticeably tiring, his reflexes slowing with fatigue, and when he made the crucial mistake. He reacted just a moment too slowly to a horizontal slash; he brought up his guard a heartbeat too late; and his last ditch effort, desperate and reflexive, was trying to avoid the attack by dropping down and ducking under her swing. It was too little too late, and he reeled sideways when the edge of the blade struck the side of his neck at full force, sending him sprawling face down in the snow.

Before the impact, but after it was too late to halt the momentum of her attack, Hella had realized that he had faltered, anticipating the inevitable accident with a flash of panic. This turned from a flash to a flood as he ducked down and took the blow in the single most vulnerable, least armored, incredibly vital spot on his body.  

"Hadrian!"

As soon as her sword struck him she dropped it, and she dropped to her knees beside him where he'd fallen. She reached out, to help _somehow_ , though she had no idea how, grasping at his shoulder. "Hadrian, are you-," She felt a torrent of panic and guilt rising in her chest- "- I didn't mean to -" - she'd cut his _neck_ , of all things, she knew there was no way that he was possibly okay-

"I'm okay." She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Through watery eyes she saw him push himself up on one arm, to a sitting position. His other hand was over his neck where the blade had met it. "I'm fine, Hella."

"What?" Her voice was just as blank and confused as her face. She locked her eyes on him and his hand. "But I- your neck."

"I'm fine," he repeated, now on one knee. He ran his fingers over his neck, his skin unbroken and unmarked beneath his hand.

"No- there's no way, that should have taken your head off, how are you _fine_?" She was confused, still, but bewilderment was swiftly splitting off into both concern and suspicion.

"You didn't; I'm fine," he insisted. He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. And he didn't look at Hella as he spoke.

"Hey! Are you guys okay?" Throndir interrupted the exchange, sprinting towards them with Kodiak just ahead of him. Farther back, Alyosha seemed to have noticed the disturbance too, approaching hurriedly from where he'd been seated beside the campfire and looking readily concerned.

"We're fine," Hadrian affirmed to Throndir, sheathing his sword. "There was an accident, but no harm was done." There was a strange tone in his voice; curt and official, almost dismissively distant. He started walking back toward the camp, met about halfway there by Alyosha and a slew of concerned questions.

Hella remained silent, watching intently as Hadrian walked away from where she was still kneeling on the ground.

Throndir glanced uncomfortably between the two; he looked to Kodiak for a moment, as if for his opinion, and saw that the dog was padding over to Hella. Kodiak stopped beside her, his head just about at her eye level, and he barked.

It got her attention, certainly- Hella startled, and her gaze snapped right from Hadrian's retreating figure to Kodiak. She looked angry for a moment, and Throndir tensed to interfere if her fight-or-flight response got the best of her, but the expression dissipated in a sigh as quickly as it had come. She gave Kodiak a begrudging scratch behind the ear. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's good." Her tone implied otherwise, but before Throndir could say so, she continued. "We should get moving, we're wasting daylight. Moonlight. Whatever." She stood up, stopped to pick up her sword and sheathe it, then started to walk back towards the camp. Throndir followed awkwardly, a few feet behind her.

By the time they reached the campfire, it seemed Hadrian had already given the order to strike camp. He and Alyosha were already gathering their belongings, getting ready for the day's travel, while the latter advised Hadrian in a soft voice to spar with safer weapons. Adaire was beside the fire, caught red-handed pouring out the last of the water in Hella's kettle into a cup of Hella's tea, and she was more confused than relieved when Hella stormed by and didn't give her so much as a sideways, irritated glance. She mouthed to Throndir, confused, _What happened?_ , and he could only shrug in reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Ever since Nacre, an unbroken night of dreamless sleep had become a luxury for Hella, and it was not one she had been afforded tonight. She didn't know whether the nightmares were derived from her own troubled thoughts or Adelaide was making her presence felt, but she had insisted on assuming the latter, so she'd quickly taught herself to be as nonplussed as possible by them. Even if she hadn't made it a matter of spite, she was accustomed to them by sheer force of volume, and so she did not call out or bolt upright as she woke. But a deep sense of unpleasantness seemed rooted in her very bones. Even simply clambering to her feet, fastening her sword to her belt, and walking out of her tent took effort, like she was moving through mud.

Nothing looked out of place outside. Adaire, Throndir and Kodiak, and Alyosha were all in their tents, presumably asleep, and Hadrian was on watch, seated beside the fire. The sky was at its darkest point in the sunless day-night cycle, and a thick covering of clouds blotted out what moonlight might otherwise reach the ground. The campfire was the only illumination to speak of.

It wasn't much to see by, but she noticed in its amber cast upon Hadrian's face that his eyes were closed. She screwed up her face in irritation, ready to give him an earful for his negligence and also for the sake of some catharsis after the previous day. After the events of the morning, the group had been awkward and largely silent during the hours spent travelling, and Hadrian had been unwaveringly evasive when she'd pressed him for an explanation.

"Hadrian," she said, her voice low and brusque as she walked around the fire toward him. He didn't stir, so she huffed and crouched beside him, reaching out and shaking his shoulder.

She was surprised by the swiftness of his reflexes as he jolted awake; one of his hands shot up and clenched her wrist, pushing her arm up and away from him. His whole upper body turned to face her, eyes wide.

Hella didn't wait for him to fully wake up and calm down. She yanked her hand back, breaking out of his hold easily, and glowered at him. "You're high-strung for someone sleeping on watch."

As she spoke, he blinked and visibly relaxed, which irritated her; she kept a level glare on him even as he told her, "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to sit watch instead of waking someone up. It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stood back up and walked back to her tent, ducking inside. Hadrian watched, briefly surprised by how abrupt the exchange had been, but saw her re-emerge a moment later with her kettle. He gave her a questioning look- it was nowhere near morning.

"I can't sleep, so I'm going to sit watch instead of waking someone up." Her sarcastic tone was not good-humored.

Both were quiet for a long moment as she set the kettle up over the fire, and when she finished, she sat down halfway around it from him.

His low voice broke the quiet. "Bad dreams?" He sounded genuinely concerned, which was patronizing to her ears

"More like good luck, if you were out here taking a nap," she snapped.

He didn't recoil. "About this morning or something else?"

She scoffed, but immediately regretted it; it sounded obviously forced. "Why would I be having nightmares about this morning? You're okay enough to spend all day being an ass about it." He remained silent, gaze upon the campfire, so she continued scathingly. "You're still not going to tell me, are you?"

"It should be enough to accept luck graciously, not to question it." He was obviously quoting some rehearsed churchly moral, and if they weren't more than her arm's reach apart, Hella might have smacked him for it.

"If you don't want to tell me, fine, but at least have the decency to just say that." She paused for a long moment before she added, "Or to say why you don't trust me."

There was such a genuine dejection to her tone that she surprised both herself and Hadrian. Frowning, he turned to her and was about to speak, but she cut him off before he could. Now her gaze was avoiding his, fixed upon the solid-frozen ground.

"And don't give me some bullshit and tell me, _no, I trust you, everything's fine_. I'm not that stupid and you know it, because you're not that stupid either. I just want you to tell me what I did."

"Why do you think you've done something?" If he was less tired, or less guarded, he might have realized his mistake in taking up the kind of tone he'd use with a distressed congregant, scripted, guiding, and impersonal.

It was a tone Hella had no patience for. She glared up at him, the firelight reflected in the harsh gold of her eyes. "I guess I'm wasting my time."

It was the venom in her tone, the anger, that got his attention and drew into stark relief his error. "Sorry- I'm still waking up, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Go back to sleep, I'm keeping watch. Good night."

"Let's talk," he insisted, trying to patch the conversation back up.

"Good night, Hadrian," she said firmly.

He didn't move. She ignored him.

He took the opportunity to spend a long time choosing his next words. Eventually, after what might have been a few long minutes or a great many short ones, he broke the silence, his voice low and somber.

"Hella, I trust you with my life. There's no one in the world I'd sooner fight beside. But there are some things best kept secret, even to people you trust. Sometimes for the sake of those people."

She did look up when he spoke, watching his face for any implications of dishonesty and finding none. And when he finished speaking, she looked back down and grinned terribly bitterly. "So, that's how this is?" It was obviously not the kind of assurance she'd been hoping for.

All Hadrian could do was sigh and reply, "I'm sorry if I've disappointed you." He sounded so sincere that it was hard to be angry with him, even if she tried.

And by the gods did she want to try. She wanted to be able to hate Hadrian, to count him not as a friend but as an obstacle to throw herself against and destroy. It would be much easier; it was what she was best at. She was lost, trying to walk the delicate tightropes of friendship and trust and emotion, but the moment she drew her sword her feet were on solid ground; she knew exactly where she was, where she needed to be, and that she could get there, so long as that path could be forged by sheer force.

But this one couldn't be, so she didn't try. She didn't snap at him, or accuse him of lying to placate her, or even let her fury simmer silently and escalate. Hella sat, shivering slightly against the cold despite the fire, and tried to consider for herself what to make of what he'd said.

 

The kettle whistled. Hadrian watched Hella stand, stretch, and retreat to her tent to fetch tea and a cup.

It had been about half an hour since either had spoken, and Hadrian had spent the time contemplatively. He didn't want to go back to sleep, both for fear of unpleasant dreams and to give Hella the opportunity to go back to sleep if she wished. He knew she wouldn't take it, because she wouldn't trust him not to fall asleep on watch again, but leaving the unspoken offer available seemed like the right thing to do.

Of course, it also seemed that tonight he'd been consistently wrong about the right thing to do regarding Hella. He didn't feel that he should have lied to her about where they stood; even if he was not always right, or tactful, or at his best, he was not going to lie to her. But he could not be completely forthright, either, and that was what threw him off. There was obviously no good way to tell Hella the full truth; that he had asked Samothes himself for protection from her blade. If she didn't trust him now, she would outright loathe him then. And even disregarding any personal investment in their friendship, no person without a death wish would invite the loathing of Hella Varal.

And, he also considered as his hand moved to where she'd accidentally stricken him and felt a bruise, invulnerability to Hella's sword was not invulnerability to Hella.

She came back out of her tent and poured out some of the boiling water over the tea leaves in her cup. Hadrian was distracted by his contemplation, so he did not notice her eyes on him, and did not anticipate it when he heard her say, "Why are you here?"

It was a big question, and it caught him off guard, but he tried to answer it as best he could.

"I don't know." He was surprised by how readily he answered her, and on some level he felt the need to rein himself in and hold back, but he continued. "I mean, the easy answer is because the Velasian council said so, but that's not the answer now. Alyosha thinks this is important, and I agree with him, but I also think protecting Rosemerrow and the people there is important, too. So I don't-"

"Hadrian." Hella interrupted him, and he saw her face twisting with poorly-hidden amusement. He paused, confused, and she informed him, "I meant why are you _here_. Outside. Instead of going to sleep."

"Oh." He was hit with a wave of embarrassment at his unsolicited outpouring, and cleared his throat. "I just- I wanted to make sure you didn't feel stuck out here, if you wanted to go back to sleep."

"If I wanted to go to sleep I'd wake someone else up." She sounded like she poking fun at him, but gently; there was no spite in her tone, unlike earlier. "But I think I'm up for the night anyways," she shrugged, replaced the kettle, and sat cross-legged beside him with a cup of tea cradled between her hands and a cloud of steam billowing up from it.

"For what it's worth, I don't really know what I'm doing here either, if that helps," she offered, chuckling uncomfortably. "I think I'm mostly just going along with you and Adaire." It stung, hearing her say that he was a main reason she was with the group. He wondered if it was intended to sting.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't give you a better answer earlier," he said frankly. He wanted to address the elephant in the room before he made any further blunders, and he also wanted to know why she'd turned around from angry to reasonably friendly so quickly.

Hella shrugged, apparently less eager to address said elephant. "It's… it's not _fine_ , but I'm thinking on it and I'm at least glad I know where we stand. Better than you lying to spare my feelings. And I guess," she sighed, "I'm willing to take what I can get?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean ever since Nacre there's been a big difference between the people I trust and the people I'm getting along with. I may not know why I'm here, but I sure as hell know why I'm not in Ordenna."

He nodded; he understood the feeling. The same unsolicited lesson had been made painfully clear to him too, over the last few months. Though he was curious as to her relationship with Ordenna; "I'd think you'd be untouchable over there, Queenkiller."

He had said the title to make clear his point, but he instantly regretted it when he saw Hella's reaction to it; a sudden flash of anger crossed her face and she almost seemed to flinch, eyebrows furrowing, and she snapped, "Don't." She saw his questioning look and continued, "I hate the title, and I hate how everyone won't shut up with it. My name's Hella, so call me that. Or I'll start calling you Sword of Samothes instead of your name."

"In a way, you do," he remarked. "The name 'Hadrian' was given to me by the church."

Hella's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding. What's your real name?"

"Hadrian is my real name, now," he asserted, but he answered her intended question. "I used to be Alexander."

She screwed up her face. "Alexander? That's… huh. You're more of a Hadrian," she remarked, lightly joking, then adding, "But that's still super weird, changing your name for the church."

"It's not weird, it's an honor and a show of devotion to Samothes."

"I don't think Samothes would care one way or the other if you were named Alexander or Hadrian," she said, but added, "but I guess most god stuff is over my head."

"It's over all of our heads, but that doesn't mean it isn't important."

"Yeah, I guess," she replied noncommittally. She took a sip of her tea, and when she lowered the cup she asked Hadrian, "Do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Of course not," he answered, assuming it would be something of relation to Samothes, given their last topic. And he was somewhat correct.

"You weren't hurt when my sword hit you because you asked for protection from Samothes, didn't you?"

He almost reeled, caught entirely off guard by Hella for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm right, aren't I?" She saw his reaction and smiled triumphantly before he could even confirm it verbally. She explained, "Throndir told me about how when you went to the Mark of the Erasure you didn't have to sleep or eat because of Samothes. I was thinking today and thought maybe this was the same thing."

He couldn't help but be impressed. "I should give you more credit," he remarked. "You're just as sharp as your blade." He did not comment on how well she was taking the discovery, though that was what stood out to him most.

She laughed- "Don't give me too much; I'm more stubborn than clever. I spent all day working it out, and it was a lucky guess. You really didn't need to hide that from me, though. Divine protection seems pretty useful, especially if it even works against Ordennan steel."

So she'd assumed it was general protection, not against her in particular. That was why she wasn't angry. He didn't confirm or deny it, but tried to sound as non-evasive as possible. "I don't think we can count on it again," he said carefully.

"Does it only work one time?"

"Samothes' protection can be inexplicable," he answered vaguely.

"... Well, sorry if I wasted it on an accident, but I guess that was good luck anyways. It's no wonder you slipped up, though, if you've been staying up all night," she chided him while he silently thanked the sun itself that she wasn't pressing him further.

"I'll go to sleep in a few minutes," he assured her, though he wasn't sure it would be worth trying to fall asleep with only a few short hours until the party would wake and get ready for the day's travel. "But I'm going to stay out here a little while longer."

"Sure," she said, and took a drink.

 

About ten minutes passed wordlessly before Hella spoke again. "Hadrian? I think it's about time."

He didn't reply. She leaned forward, craning her neck to look at his face, and she saw his eyes closed, his face illuminated by firelight.

_Of course_ , she thought with a sigh, defeated and exasperated but hushed; she didn't want to disturb him. She was equally quiet and careful as she walked to her tent, ducked inside, and grabbed her blanket, carrying it back to Hadrian at the fireside. Gingerly, she draped it around him, armor and all. It wasn't a tent, but hopefully it would keep him warm enough not to wake up sick.

It wouldn't be hard to argue to herself that she did it for the good of the party, not any personal investment in Hadrian's well-being. After all, even if she'd cornered him on one issue, he was still distancing himself from her and hiding things that she knew were important, somehow, even if she didn't know what they were. She had no reason to care particularly about his comfort and safety if he was so ready to disregard hers. But she knew, as she sat back down across the fire from him, that she hadn't done it for some greater good or the safety of the group- it had been a long time since she'd acted for either of those things, she knew, and was not ashamed to know it. Trying to keep him warm had been a kind impulse; a gut feeling and nothing more had led her to wrap him in the blanket. And it was that same feeling, tugging at her as she watched his breath rise into the cold air in regular sighs, that urged her to trust him despite it all.

Hella took a long drink from her cup, exhaled sharply, and settled in for a long night's watch; she told herself she was reserving judgement and, attempting to ignore that deep-rooted feeling, pretended she hadn't already made her decision.

**Author's Note:**

> i just want these two to hug it out okay
> 
> (catch me @gportentosa on twitter, sayin gay shit about hella probably)
> 
> as always, comments, feedback, and critique are worth their weight in gold! <3


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